Evolution of a Relationship
by Rockstar with a Vendetta
Summary: From Lerant's possessive jealousy to Keladry's renown, their relationship is complex, draining, and riddled with obstacles - but there are also tender moments, and one can only hope that their love is strong enough to beat the odds. KelxLerant.
1. Simplicity

**I'm on a KelxLerant spree! :D The chapters will be in chronological order, but there's no plot per se - each chapter will simply act as a window inside Kel and Lerant's relationship as it grows deeper, and will portray the good and the bad.**

**This is based off prompts from the Livejournal community, 31 days.**

**o1 _Pink ribbon scars that never forget_**

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"How'd you get this one?"

Her fingers, tracing the puckered ridges of his many scars, were sending him into a drowsy trance. Lerant twisted his neck to peer over his shoulder. She was stroking one low on his back, long but not deep.

"Um," he murmured, letting his head fall back down on the pillow. His voice was muffled when he said, "I think it was from some Tyran bandits, back when I first joined the Own."

Keladry leaned forward to kiss it. A pleasant tingle shivered down his spine and he rolled over, grabbing her as he did so that she sprawled on top of him. She set her elbows on either side of his head and propped her head on her hands, grinning down at him. Never unfriendly, Kel was also not what he considered outgoing; she had surprised him with her affection.

Running hands down her bare thighs, Lerant's fingertips brushed the jagged shape of one of her scars. "How'd you get this one?"

"A Scanran," she said promptly. "He cut me deep with a war hammer."

"Sounds painful."

"It was one of the worst, I suppose." It was an evasive tone; she did not mind speaking of her scars, but she would not speak of weakness. They were alike in that respect.

"And this?" Kel asked, outlining a ghastly scar on his chest with gentle fingers. He liked the way she frowned when she noticed how close it was to his heart, missing it by a mere inch. "This looks serious."

Lerant glanced away, saying simply, "An arrow."

But it was stupid of him to think he could fool her so easily. She stated quietly, "The one you took for Raoul."

"Yes."

She laid her head against his chest, her hand pressed over the scar. "Did it hurt?"

"I hurt less than I would have had I let milord die."

Kel didn't say anything to that; she didn't have to. For once, the woman he lay with didn't bother him with questions about _how brave he was_ and _would he take an arrow for her?_, because she had more scars than he did, and she knew what it was to be not brave, but simply loyal.

Lerant leaned over and snuffed out the candle.

-----


	2. Pointing Fingers

**Not for the first time, Lerant shows his ugly side.**

**02 - _Walking on higher ground_**

-----

The door burst open and banged against the wall, startling Keladry enough that she had reached and half-unsheathed her sword by the time Lerant had strode across the threshold. The look in his eyes was unfamiliar and wild as they scoured her room.

"Where is he?" he demanded, wrenching open her wardrobe and closing it just as hard. "Where is he hiding?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm not stupid, Kel, I saw you leave with him!"

"Who?"

Instead of answering, Lerant shoved past her and disappeared into the privy. She followed him, pausing in the doorway. There was nothing—or no one—in there, and it was clear that this vexed him. He kicked her iron washtub in impulsive anger. It clattered across the floor with a screeching clamor.

"Lerant," Kel said, unable to hide the steely edge in her voice, "what is the matter with you?"

"I know he's around here somewhere," he muttered. "Is he under the bed?"

To her total bewilderment, he got down on all fours and lifted the blanket hem to peer under it. "No? Did he already leave?"

Finally, she began to piece together his ramblings, and she did not like what she was interpreting. The accusation written on his face made her involuntarily bristle. Anger bubbled up, quickly smothered by her Yamani Mask.

"What are you trying to say, Lerant?" she said coldly.

"I know you brought back another man," he snapped. "I want to know where he is!"

"You mean _Faleron_?" she exclaimed, surprised. "You think I bedded _Faleron_?"

"Didn't you?" he shot back. "I saw you leave the ball with him!"

She forced herself to relax her hands, so close to clenching into fists. "He walked me back to my rooms, as a friend," she said in a low voice. "I was catching up with him—you know we hadn't seen each other in ages."

"Then you should've asked me. I should've been with you."

"If I recall," Kel flared, "you were too busy dancing with Lady Doanna. I was tired, and Faleron offered to walk me back here—it was innocent. I can't believe you think so little of me."

It was as though he completely disregarded her words. "Oh, so now I'm in the wrong because I was dancing with Doanna? That doesn't give you any right—"

"How dare you speak to me of my rights? I am not a woman to boss around, Lerant, and if you think of me as a possession, then perhaps you should evaluate this relationship."

"So this is a relationship now?" Lerant sneered.

It was a slap in the face, but she knew better than to show it. He thrived on confrontation, on others' pain, although she had not expected this kind of animosity to ever be directed at her, not since those days when she was a squire and a seeming threat to his position in the Own.

"You tell me," she said quietly.

"A relationship isn't a relationship if you're going to sleep with someone else, Kel."

"I never slept with him! I was gone for a total of five minutes before you came barging in here with your baseless accusations. How can you possibly think we did anything?"

"How do I know you didn't?"

"_Because I'm not cruel like you._"

For the first time, the bitterness was in her voice, the resentment in her eyes.

"I wanted to keep this quiet, because it's better for both of us that way. But then you go off and dance with other women, and flirt with them, and pretend like I don't exist—that's not what I wanted, and it hurts. The worst part is, you _know_ it hurts, and you _still_ do it."

"Kel—"

"Maybe you didn't take this seriously, but I did. And then you come in here and accuse me of infidelity and treat me like a possession? What's wrong with you?"

Lerant opened his mouth, and then closed it again.

"I think you should leave," she said.

_Please say something_, Kel thought. _Just say you're sorry_.

But he didn't. He stared at her with his twisted face, unreadable; he had a Mask all his own. She waited, hoping, angry but hoping, because she could forgive him this cruel distrust if he would apologize and take her in his arms. She would be weak, in that respect, but she would trust that he would not hurt her like this again.

Instead, he silently turned and left. The door slammed behind him. There was no apology, no giving to even out the brutal taking. And Kel could only stand there, desperately hoping for him to come back like a beaten woman, and knowing that his spiteful jealousy had, once again, bested the both of them.

-----


	3. Something from Nothing

**o3 - _Is it a groove or is it a rut?_**

-----

The leaves began to change from their dry summer green to the rich earthy colors of autumn. New recruits joined the Own, and many left again. Rumor had it that a woman would inherit Marti's Hill for the first time in history. Scanra caved in completely and Tortall tried to settle a dispute between Carthak and the Copper Isles. Lerant grew out his hair and celebrated the birth of his nephew. So much changed, and yet, and yet—

The more things seemed to change, the more they stayed the same.

_I'm not cruel like you._

Like the mocking ghost of past offenses, the thought haunted Lerant waking and dreaming, until he was ready to pull his hair out and rip his face off and injure himself so brutally that at least he can focus on that pain, and not this one. He was constantly pulled back to that night, when he accused her and she accused him and the fragile thing that they were fell apart. He had left without a word because it was not his way to apologize, and he had not wanted to.

Keladry was called away to New Hope again, and Third Company was pulled to a dispute with centaurs on the Tyran border. Three times over the course of six months he returned to Corus, only to discover that she had just left, always one step ahead of him and never waiting.

It had never been a relationship; they both agreed on that. They simply slept together when they were bored, like the boy who played with the little girl in the neighboring fief in secret and then made fun of her to his friends. It meant nothing.

Or it shouldn't have.

"Can nothing turn into something?"

Domitan blinked, pausing in his grooming. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, if you have nothing at all, can something still be made of it?"

The man wore a really annoying look of pity. "Lerant, Eldorne isn't nothing, just because you have an aunt—"

"Oh, not that," Lerant said irritably. "A girl, you moron."

"A girl?" He raised dark brows. "I didn't know you were courting."

"I'm not. Mithros."

"Ahh," Dom said, grinning knowingly. "Chasing some skirts, are you? Well, good for you. It's about time you got laid. You were having a bit of a dry spell there."

Lerant glared at him reproachfully. "I asked you a serious question."

"Right, right. Can nothing turn into something...what, do you love her now?"

"Of course not," he retorted, beginning to think it had been a bad idea to ask the sergeant for advice.

"Good," Dom said. When his mount nipped his arm, he resumed brushing it with the curry comb. "Women are nothing but trouble. So what's the problem?"

"I...care, I guess, more than I should. I saw her leave with another man, and I got a little jealous—"

"Stupid, you don't let your emotions get involved in that kind of thing. It never ends well."

"I know that. I just—I don't know what to do."

"You mean you miss her?"

"No. Yes. Maybe. Neither wanted of us ever wanted a relationship. We still don't, I don't think. But it's—something."

"And that's how you've got something from nothing."

"Exactly."

"Sounds like you've got a problem."

Lerant stared. "That's it? That's all you're going to say?"

Dom sighed. "Look, Lerant, it's rarely nothing. There's always going to be _something_. It's just what you make of it."

They were quiet for a moment, lost in their individual thoughts. He didn't want a relationship, he knew that. Women had given him nothing but trouble ever since he first began to tumble them. They could be cruel—

_I'm not cruel like you_.

—and clingy, and they knew just what to say to get under a man's skin. Still, Kel—she was calm, quiet, soothing. And he suddenly realized with a bit of an ill feeling that yes, he _did_ miss her. Reluctantly, Lerant decided to find her, the next time he was in Corus. He'd catch up to her this time around.

She wasn't everything, but she was definitely something.

-----


	4. Gomenasai

**The title is taken from the song of the same name by T.A.T.U.**

**o4 - _Nothing ended, nothing begun, nothing resolved_**

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"Lerant."

Keladry didn't try to disguise the surprise in her voice. Seeing him leaning against her door, presumably waiting for her, was an unexpected sight. He was looking somewhat haggard, like he hadn't had much sleep. Still, his level brown eyes were alert as they rested on her face and never strayed as she neared.

"Kel," he said quietly. "I was hoping I'd catch you here."

Suddenly aware of how sweaty she was, coming straight from the practice courts, Kel shifted her glaive to the other shoulder. "What do you want?"

"To see you." He uncrossed his arms and straightened. "You aren't a whore, Kel."

"Figured it out, did you?" she said, tensing.

She pushed past him, fumbling for her key. She cursed silently to see her fingers trembling. _Stone_, she told herself sternly. _I am stone_.

"That's not what I meant," he said hastily. "Well, sort of—I mean, I know you didn't bed your friend. Sir Faleron."

She jammed the key in the lock without looking at him. "I'm glad to hear that."

"Kel."

Something in his voice gave her pause, and then his hand was on her arm. It didn't force her there but she found herself turning to look at him. He had grown his hair out, she noted. It made him look older. Her fingers itched to brush the bangs away from his face, but she resisted. Let him look like a sheepdog if he so desired.

"What?"

"Please just listen to me."

She waited.

"I know I went too far," Lerant said in a low voice. "It was stupid of me. I was just jealous. I didn't like when you left with someone else."

"You were cruel," Kel said quietly, and his face twitched as though in pain. "I can't just forget that."

"I don't expect you to. But I don't want it to be like this between us. We're more than nothing."

"What are you saying, Lerant?" she asked tiredly.

"I missed you," he said simply.

It was unexpected, and Kel forgot her Yamani discipline to stare at him in blatant surprise. She was torn; the dignity and pride in her demanded she receive a direct apology for him, because he had been wrong and she knew she couldn't let him by so easily. But the other part of her, the soft part, didn't want to persecute him; it took a lot for him to admit this much, she knew, and she would have been a fool to say she didn't miss his warm body next to her in bed.

"What are we going to do?"

Lerant shrugged, the slightest of crooked smiles on his face. "What we did before?"

Kel sighed, pushing the door open and stepping back. "Come in, then. This kind of talk doesn't belong in the corridor."

-----


	5. The Kraken

**PLEASE NOTE: Due to content more explicit that FF.N will allow, I have posted the chapter between this one and the previous one at The King's Own Fanfiction Archive - it's a wonderful site. If you are interested in seeing this chapter, looking up my username, "journeycat." A direct link to my account can be found on my profile. Thank you. (:**

**o6 - _Perhaps it's because it's not sad enough_**

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She found him in the empty stables, perched on a stool with Drum's hoof secured on his knee, meticulously picking the dirt from the grooves. He was whistling a melody slightly off-key under his breath, and stopped only when he finally looked up and smiled.

"Hello there," Lerant said pleasantly. "I hadn't realized you were back already."

Kel hanged over the half-door, propping her chin up on her arms. "We returned early this morning. I didn't want to disturb you."

"I wouldn't have minded."

She didn't say anything, and he resumed cleaning Drum's hoof.

After struggling for a moment, she finally said, "I heard about your aunt."

He didn't miss a beat. "Word travels fast, I see. Yes, she passed away a couple days ago."

His face was hidden from her view, but his tone seemed untroubled. "Are you...okay?"

When he glanced up, his expression was clear and untroubled. "Delia was a traitor," Lerant said flatly. "I don't mourn her."

"But she was also kin," Kel said softly. "You didn't have a connection, no sense of family?"

He shrugged. "Father never let me see her. I don't know if he even visited her. The first and only time I met her, I was fifteen, and it was Raoul who suggested I see her, something about 'needing closure.' So I went to meet her, and I saw why Father refused to allow it—the woman was crazy as a bat, I swear it."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, Aunt Delia had no idea who I was. The only time she came remotely close to recognizing me was when I told her my name, and then all she did was call me by my father's name and curse me. It was downhill after that." His smiled was crooked. "Sometimes she'd call me Thom, and make fun of me. Sometimes she'd talk to some invisible person beside her and call him Jonathan. The weirdest was Roger—she'd made some kind of shrine to him, and she'd mumble to herself and kneel before it. The guards told me her last visitor was Lady Cythera, and that was something like nine years before I came."

Kel stared at him, her lips parted in surprise. He was not one to speak deeply of past or family; he was often ashamed of both. And now she was learning more of Delia of Eldorne than she ever did, and on a very personal level, at that.

"I didn't know," she said, stricken. "I didn't know she was in such a state."

"I know," he said. "It's why I told you."

His smile was sweet. _Maybe he really doesn't care_, Kel thought. _He really seems okay._ She smiled back, and slipped in the stall to join him.

"Hand me a pick and move over," she said. "It'll go faster if we work together."

-----


	6. Like a Prayer

**o7 - _Where were you when they broke the news?_**

* * *

"They don't think he's going to make it."

The words were a hard blow to the gut, a nauseating lurch in the groin. At first, they did not sink in, and all Lerant did for a moment was stare blankly at Dom, whose clear blue eyes were shining and bloodshot from ill-suppressed tears.

"What?" he asked stupidly.

"Milord," Dom said, swallowing hard. "He's lost too much blood, Lerant. He's dying."

Like a prayer, Lerant touched his breast through his torn shirt, feeling for the hard ridge of the scar by his heart. _No_, he thought. _No_.

"You're lying," he whispered. "Milord Raoul—he's fine, I saw him walk off the battlefield with nothing but a limp—"

"He took a cut in the belly. You know milord—he kept it from the healers until it was too late."

He could not say anything, and eventually, Dom left him, but not before Lerant heard him heave great gulping sobs. For himself, no tears would come, only a burning agony in his throat. Raoul was dying? It was absurd, monstrous, a horrible joke without a punch line.

But from his place sitting on this log, where the healer Emmet had bullied him to _stay put, Ler, and drink this tea_, Lerant observed two healers leaving Raoul's tents, and their grim expressions gave truth to Dom's lie. They spoke to each other in low voices, a man and a woman, and he couldn't heard what they were saying. Then again, he didn't have to—Wolset, acting as guard to the tent and therefore privy to their conversation, blanched and closed his eyes.

Raoul was dying.

_You'll serve the Own nicely, I think_, the familiar voice said cheerfully in his head, from all those years ago when a surly fifteen-year-old youth had applied for a post, any post in the Own, without much hope. Seeing his surprise, Raoul half-smiled in a kind way he never forgot. _Just because one apple is rotten doesn't mean the whole barrel is._

For the first time, Lerant knew empathy.

Inanely, his thoughts went to Kel—she was grateful to Raoul, loved him and willingly served him, but she would never know what it was to be so deeply loyal to him that she would gladly die one thousand deaths if it meant he would live for five more minutes. But she had been an outcast and Raoul had taken her in, just like him; she had, at least, an inkling of what it was to be rescued.

And in the smallest corner of his heart, Lerant hated her a little bit—because all the attention Raoul had paid to her could have been time spent with him, a couple more memories added to his life. And he felt guilty, because it wasn't her fault, but then he was angry that he was guilty, because why should he be? Maybe _she_ should feel guilty, instead.

_Kel, where are you?_ he thought brokenly, as healers and soldiers bustled back and forth before him, ignoring him. _Why aren't you here? Why is he dying, I don't understand, please don't die, milord, Goddess, please don't let him die—!_

Lerant bowed his head in his hands, and wept.


	7. Obsession

**o8 - Too much love will kill you in the end**

**

* * *

**

There was a brief knock on the door, soft and tired and familiar. Kel hastily tossed her book to the side and slipped out of bed to answer it. She was unprepared for the heavy weight that practically collapsed on top of her and buckled a little beneath it, but Lerant managed to struggle upright. His gray skin and hooded, shadowed eyes gave testimony to his exhaustion.

"You look awful," she said sympathetically. "Come in."

He didn't argue, although usually he had some kind of snappy retort to follow a comment like that. Without pause, he all but crawled into her bed and, heaving a great sigh, rolled over on his belly. He was so quiet that she assumed he had abruptly fallen asleep. She blinked, a little taken aback, but proceeded to remove his boots for him, to make him more comfortable. Besides, they were dirty, and dirty boots had no place in her bed.

"Mmsh."

Kel looked up. "What?"

Lerant lifted his head, said "Thanks," and flopped his head back down. He wasn't asleep, after all.

"How's Raoul?"

He turned his head so that he was facing her and managed a wan smile. "He's actually better. He'll live, at any rate. The healers say he's a walking miracle."

"I'm relieved. The entire palace was in mourning for weeks, until word came that he was on the mend."

"I don't know how he managed it. I mean, his intestines were practically falling out."

He shuddered, as though the memory was too much to bear. Kel had no doubt he had been by Raoul's side the whole time.

"How was the ride back?"

"It was fine. No battles, fortunately—I don't think milord could have handled it."

"Definitely not," she agreed. "Did you get hurt at all? No one mentioned any of the men."

"If I did, I didn't notice it. I was too busy with milord."

She shifted. "Have you eaten? I have some bread and cheese leftover, although it's probably a little warm by now."

"No, thanks," he demurred. "I ate with milord."

Something wasn't quite right. Could he not speak without talking about Raoul? Kel understood his feelings—she herself was almost shaky with relief, for the man who had saved her and taught her and, yes, loved her—but there was something in his eyes, something frightening and too-intense..

"How are you doing?" she asked softly.

"I'm fine, now that milord is okay. I mean, I thought he was going to die—and then he didn't. What if he had? What would I have done? What would..."

Questions, the _what ifs_ and the _what would happen to me?_ and the milord, milord, milord. It scared her, and she admitted it. Would she ever love someone so obsessively that her very life depended on theirs? Would she ever feel so much emotion for one person that the sun seemed to rise and set on their shoulders?

No, Kel decided. She loved deeply, loyally, but she could never imagine loving in such a way that it would kill her in the end.


End file.
